


Nothing for Christmas

by DaSly fics (i_write_hurt_not_comfort)



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: (but there's no drugs this time), Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Mentions of familial death, Smoking, the classic DaSly content obvs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21952615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_write_hurt_not_comfort/pseuds/DaSly%20fics
Summary: Elliot discovers a new incentive to come home for Christmas.
Relationships: Leo Baskerville/Elliot Nightray
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	Nothing for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> ajhafkdj yeah so merry christmas everyone!! i decided to stick to the classics this year and write a cute-with-a-small-side-of-angst elleo fic! i hope you enjoyed it, i really enjoyed writing these two happy again after all the bs in dirty laundry lmao. also the title and quotes are from Nothing for Christmas by New Found Glory - a really nice christmas song!!   
> content warnings: some sexual stuff but nothing too intense, smoking, swearing i think 
> 
> enjoy!! :DD and have a great Christmas if that's something you celebrate. if not, enjoy the elleo.

_Christmas is coming, so don't buy me anything,  
I got what I wanted._

-x-

It felt strange being back in London.

By the time Elliot’s plane touched down at the city airport, it was already dark, the time shortly approaching 6pm. After all the formalities of security and baggage collection, Elliot begrudgingly realised it was coming closer to 7pm; albeit he was barely awake at this point, having been on that stupid plane for over 10 hours, and wanting nothing more than to lay down and _sleep_.

As he left the airport, dragging himself and his suitcase past the abundance of families all happily greeting each other for holidays, Elliot tried his best to shut them out, and work up the energy to just get to the train station. Having said that, it _was_ Christmas eve, so he wasn’t really sure why he didn’t at least expect that. Bitterly, Elliot remembered how his family frankly couldn’t be bothered to pick him up, instead booking him a hotel and leaving him to make the last leg of the journey alone. And if he wasn’t so exhausted and jetlagged, he wouldn’t have complained about that.

Upon reaching outside, Elliot was rather abruptly reminded of how much colder London was in December compared to the 22°C he was used to in Hollywood for most of the month. Part of him was desperate to just take a break from the journey, for ten minutes or so, but Elliot somehow managed to pluck up enough courage to make it to the train, just to get from the inner city to the outskirts.

By the time he reached the hotel, having dozed off a few times and nearly missing his stop, it was past 8pm. Checking in took far too long, the family in front of him arguing with the reception staff over a mistake in their booking made Elliot’s patience wear thinner than it already was.

Eventually – _finally_ – he checked in, and made it to the top floor. To little surprise, the room his parents had set him up in was the most expensive one there, a 4-poster king size bed taking up only a fraction of the floor space. The rest of the room was decorated with other high-end furniture brands, and Elliot was left wondering if his parents booked this room for the singular purpose of flexing their wealth – he hadn’t seen them in a year, after all, and God-forbid if he ever happened to _forget_ about his privileges.

Still, though, after kicking his shoes off, tossing his jacket on a nearby chair, and leaving his bag and suitcase by the door, Elliot took only three seconds to marvel at the décor before throwing himself face down on the mattress.

The feeling of lying down was euphoric. The tiredness won over quickly, and Elliot managed to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him that it’d been over fourteen hours since his last cigarette.

Within two minutes of his head hitting the pillow, Elliot fell into a deep sleep.

* * *

After three hours of being out cold, an aching in his neck and itching in his throat finally pulled Elliot from his slumber.

As he sat up, peeling his face off the bed in the process and running a palm under his eyelids, Elliot realised he was now suffering with the consequences of sleeping without a pillow. A stupid idea, really, and he wouldn’t have minded going back to sleep now if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew his body clock would be totally screwed if he didn’t get up.

Reluctantly, Elliot threw his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up, deciding to give in to the niggling in his head. Traipsing over to his jacket, he performed a half-assed stretch halfway through putting on the jacket, before shuffling outside onto the balcony and staring out at the city for a moment.

With a yawn, he retrieved the packet of cigarettes from his pocket, placing one between his lips. Cupping the flame of the lighter with his hand, the cigarette was lit a moment later, and Elliot genuinely hadn’t realised how much he’d needed it until the smoke reached his lungs, and he could _finally_ relax. Briefly, he wondered why the _hell_ he hadn’t lit up the moment he got off that goddamn plane, but shortly after, he yawned again, and remembered just how _fed up_ he’d been. (And still _was_ ).

After another couple of drags, Elliot pulled out his phone, only then realising he had yet to switch it on after the flight. Upon turning it on, however, he was confronted with the sad reality of having received nothing – spare a message from his parents, presumably asking if his flight had made it in safely and on time, and a couple of _‘merry Christmas’_ emails from work.

A moment later, after browsing through various social media apps and finding little of excitement, the phone froze. Following this was a few short vibrations, before the message of ‘ _Oz: calling’_ flashed up on the screen.

“What the fuck…” Elliot deadpanned under his breath, thinking _why the hell is Oz calling me?_

Oz was, among a few others, one of his friends at university. But that was two years ago now, and Elliot had maintained contact with none of them since moving away.

Still, though, with his curiosity winning over, Elliot answered the call. “Hello?”

 _“Hey! Elliot!_ ” Oz exclaimed from the other end of the phone. Hearing his voice filled him with nostalgia, to tell the truth, a slight smile tugging at his lips behind the wisps of smoke. _“You didn’t tell me you were back in town!_ ”

“How the hell do you know where I am?” Elliot groaned, dragging on the cigarette as he leant against the balcony railings.

“ _Hehe. Your Snapmaps.”_

“Of course…” He grumbled, internally cursing himself for ever turning ghost mode off. Having said that, Oz _had_ already called him, so he might as well attempt to make this into a worthwhile conversation. “So, where are you now?”

“ _Ah, I’m living in inner London,”_ Oz said, _“I’m a member of the design team who write the infographics at exhibitions at the British Museum.”_

Elliot snorted through a cloud of smoke, attempting to hide the slight jealously he experienced in that moment. “So that Master’s in Ancient History does come in handy, huh?”

 _“Hehe, yeah,”_ Oz snickered, following which was a short silence, before the other picked up the conversation once again. _“Anyway, what’re you doing back in town? Aren’t you up to better things now?_ ”

Derisively, Elliot laughed under his breath, tapping the ash off the cigarette against the railings. “Trust me, if it wasn’t for Christmas, I wouldn’t be here.”

_“Aaah, do you think we could meet for a drink at some point?”_

“Sorry,” Elliot said, rather insincerely. Snuffing out the cigarette, without thinking, he immediately lit another one. “My flight leaves on boxing day. I’m working on the 27th.”

 _“Aw,”_ Oz said, and Elliot was 90% certain he could hear his pout. _“Anyways, what’re you up to tonight?”_

“It’s 11pm,” Elliot deadpanned, dragging on the cigarette momentarily. “Nothing is open. But once you disappear, I might try to find a bar or something.” He paused, rolling his eyes. “I’ll need it for tomorrow…”

 _“Hehe,”_ Oz chuckled. And strangely, that chuckle sounded _slightly_ more devilish than usual. _“Go to the zoo bar. It’s gotten good.”_

Elliot laughed. “You think it’ll meet my expectations, huh?”

Once again, Oz went… oddly silent. Then, through a quiet snicker, he said, _“Yeah. Definitely. Anyway, I have to go now, but we’ll talk soon, yeah?”_

“You hope,” Elliot grumbled, hiding the slight smile tugging at his lips as he left him on a moderately-affectionate, “Bye, dumbass.”

With Oz gone, the balcony fell silent again. Those awkward silences slowly drove Elliot insane, until finally, he snuffed out the second cigarette, and reluctantly gave into his curiosity. Sure enough, said bar didn’t close until midnight, and was conveniently only a ten-minute walk away from his hotel.

After using the bathroom and unpacking a few of his things, Elliot finally decided to just _go_. It couldn’t hurt, right?

_(That was what he thought.)_

As Google maps had predicted, just under ten minutes after leaving the hotel, Elliot found himself at the bar. The outside filled him with nostalgia of his university days in this town. Upon going inside, he felt even more nostalgic, being reminded of all those nights he’d staggered in drunk and out even drunker. Even though it was virtually empty, spare a few couples dotted around the place, it still held atmosphere, the quiet hum of soul-punk, indie music playing in the background. The decorations were modern, but with a 19th-century edge in various places. The lighting was low in the bar itself, but _behind_ the bar was lit and decorated impeccably, as if the owner had sometimes spent hours at a time organising all the bottles and glasses and hundreds of books about cocktail-making.

Wordlessly, after acknowledging no one seemed to be behind the bar, Elliot simply sat down, drumming his fingers against the edge of the polished wooden bar top. Two minutes later, and eventually someone emerged from the back room, hidden behind the bar. Said person was of small build, with long, straggly brown hair tied up in a messy bun, and large, round glasses covering most of his face.

Then, he turned around. And the very moment the two met eyes, Elliot felt his heart stop.

All of a sudden, it became obvious why Oz had sent him there.

After a minute of staring, neither of them making a movie, Elliot finally came to terms with the man standing in front of him.

 _This_ was Leo. This was the man he loved for _6 years_ , all through college and university. The person he’d had his first kiss with; his first time with. The person who’d been there through everything. And yet, despite all of that, almost immediately after Elliot moved away to America after graduating, they lost contact immediately.

And now, two years on, aged 24, here they were again. Standing; staring, but with nothing to say.

“Um…” Elliot was the first to open his mouth, his eyes still doubled in size, in total disbelief. “Hi…”

A brief, panicked exhale later, Leo replied, “Hi.”

His voiced sounded exactly as he’d remembered it. Hell, he _looked_ the same; he’d barely grown an inch, too. Every feature of his face, and that discreet nostalgic smile which was subtly tugging at his lips, he remembered perfectly.

Finally, Elliot managed to shake off only a fraction of the initial shock, and speak again. “Uh, I… didn’t realise you were still here.”

Leo shrugged, subtly. “I didn’t realise you’d ever come back.” Abruptly after, he leant forward, slapping the bar and taking two steps closer. “Anyway, what’re you after? It’s on the house.”

“Oh,” Elliot stammered, “Uh, um…”

“Cat got your tongue?” Leo winked, bending down to the cabinet under the bar and pulling out a round-bottom cocktail glass. “I’ll take creative freedom, then.”

Before now, Elliot had never gaped at bartending before. But with every new bottle Leo brought out, there was a new trick, flipping the bottles to double pouring to all sorts of things Elliot hadn’t even thought were possible.

“Fucking hell, okay,” Elliot breathed out heavily, folding his arms over and sneering quietly. “Show off.”

With a notably smug smirk, a minute later, Leo presented Elliot with the finished cocktail. The sunset ombre and cocktail umbrella seemed almost ironic, and – after picking it up and tentatively sipping – Elliot couldn’t help but snort. “Sex on the beach on Christmas eve, huh?”

Winking again, Leo poured himself a shot of what looked like tequila, and knocked it back in one. Silence soon commenced, neither of them saying anything, but occasionally meeting eyes.

“I’ve missed you,” Elliot said quietly. Straight after the words left his lips, he regretted it.

“Me too,” Leo replied. Elliot almost choked. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m working for a publishing company in Hollywood,” Elliot said, clearly boasting and not really holding back either. “I did some free-lancing stuff at first, but I was hired pretty quickly. I’m now living in an apartment in the city.”

“Someone’s rich, then.”

“Well, yeah,” Elliot said, dumbfounded, sipping from the cocktail. “Why did you stay in this town? You probably could’ve gotten a better job than me. I only got a 2:1.”

For a moment, Leo said nothing, instead shifting where he stood. Then, he spoke, lowering his voice discreetly. “My mum died a few weeks after we stopped talking. And I just… I suddenly never wanted to leave. So, I didn’t. And I spend most of my nights here.”

“It’s… nice in here,” Elliot murmured. Unsure of what to reply to what he’d just been told, he simply spent another minute admiring the décor, the alcohol clouding his head just slightly and leaving him with a residing dizziness each time he shifted his view.

“Yeah. The previous manager went on maternity leave, so I pretty much run the place now,” Leo explained, “It’s a fun job, and I meet some good people.”

“Nice,” was all that initially left Elliot’s mouth, until a second later, when he realised what that – along with the subtle wink – _really_ implied. “Oh.”

“So,” Leo smirked, leaning over the bar once again. “Where are you staying?”

Elliot, for the second time that minute, choked on his drink. Unavoidably, a light blush soon spread across his face. “What, are you inviting yourself there?”

“That depends.” Leo winked, glancing over his shoulder, pouring another shot, and then leaning across the bar. Softly, he ran a finger over Elliot’s jawline, before pulling away abruptly and knocking back the shot in one swallow. “This place closes at midnight. I’ll let you mull over that one for a bit.”

As Leo spun on his heel, walking across to the other side of the bar, one single thought crossed Elliot’s mind.

 _Fuck, I love him_.

* * *

After much deliberation over the last half an hour, Elliot decided to wait.

At closing time, no more than 10 minutes ago, Leo had kicked him out. He hadn’t brought it up, but Elliot knew he would’ve thought of it. And he’d thought about it too. A lot. His heart was racing, because it was painfully obvious and yet so subtle that Leo probably expected sex. That thought alone had Elliot puffing his way through his second cigarette already.

When the lights of the bar finally switched off, and the door swung open, Elliot’s heart skipped a beat, as he watched Leo pulls out his keys and switch on the security bars. Briefly, their eyes met, but neither said a word, until Leo finished locking up the bar.

Traipsing over to him, Leo smirked. Expectantly, he extended a hand. With an internal sigh, Elliot reluctantly passed the cigarette to him, grumbling under his breath, “Why can’t you get your own?”

Despite the grouchy intonation, this alone filled him with nostalgia, as he thought back to their days at university, where Leo had a penchant for stealing his smokes.

After taking a long drag and exhaling for a solid five seconds, Leo dropped the cigarette on the ground, and stomped it out. “Because I quit six months ago.”

“Not anymore,” Elliot murmured.

“We’ll see.” Leo hummed ambiguously, spinning on his heel. “Come on, take me to your hotel.”

Wordlessly nodding, Elliot began walking in said direction. His hand, all of a sudden – as it hung temptingly close to Leo’s – felt empty. But despite the desperate urge to grab Leo’s hand and intertwine their fingers, Elliot managed to clench his fist shut. It’d been two years since they’d seen each other; even if Leo _did_ take it well, there was always the possibility that he found it weird.

And, despite the awkwardness of the silence, Elliot firmly believed they were having a moment here.

Once they arrived, he led the other up to the room, casually unlocking it with the key card and flicking on the light switch.

“My bad,” Leo snickered, stepping past the threshold and admiring the décor. He turned back to Elliot, adding in a nonchalant voice, “I forgot how loaded your parents are.”

“Hm,” Elliot grunted. Quietly, he stripped himself of his jacket, tossing it aside onto the chair. “So why did you come here?”

“Is it now obvious?” Leo said, narrowing his eyes. With a sly smirk tugging at his lips, he slowly peeled his jacket off, dropping it onto the floor. With a delicate hand, as he began approaching Elliot, he pulled the hair-type from the messy ponytail, letting the disheveled brown mess drape down onto his shoulders. Elliot swallowed thickly; _this_ reminded him too much of the Leo he remembered.

His heart was racing, because Leo was right: it was obvious. He wanted to sleep with him.

“I, um, uh…” Elliot stammered, his breath hitching in his throat when Leo’s hand snaked around to the back of his neck.

With the other hand wrapped around his waist, Leo leant up, and placed his lips softly onto his. Instantly, a sequence of memories flashed through Elliot’s mind, and the taste and feel and every single move felt hauntingly yet _beautifully_ familiar.

Fueled by lust, he captured Leo’s wrist, and hastily pushed him backwards onto the bed, clambering on top of him as his other hand began creeping down to his jeans. Roughly, Leo bit down on his lower lip, but Elliot still won over control when he brushed his tongue past the other’s teeth, and began grinding against his hips.

Truly, it felt good to be back.

* * *

By the time Elliot woke up the next morning, on Christmas day, it was already 8am.

Groggily, he peeled open his eyes, his limbs still harboring a small ache from the jetlag, _and possibly due to some other activities of last night_. The most noticeable thing that was wrong, however, was the absence of Leo beside him.

Sitting up, Elliot glanced around the room briefly, and sure enough, he quickly spotted the other, standing outside on the balcony and puffing on a cigarette – one of _his_ cigarettes, Elliot begrudgingly realised. With an audible huff, he stumbled off the bed, rubbing his eyes until he could see clearly enough. After using the bathroom quickly, Elliot managed to suck up the courage and go outside, and ignore the pounding in his chest; he’d always been weak after one-night-stands.

Albeit, there _was_ a nagging voice in the back of his mind insisting that this wasn’t just a _one-night-stand_.

Wordlessly proceeding outside, the first thing Elliot did was pluck the half-finished cigarette out of Leo’s hand, and stick it between his own lips. Before taking the first drag, he muttered, “What happened to quitting?”

With a roll of the eyes, Leo pouted. “Merry Christmas to you too…”

“Hm,” Elliot mumbled, biting back a smile as he exhaled the smoke. “Merry Christmas, dumbass.”

“Charming.” Leo gave a sarcastic chuckle, leaning on the railings of the balcony. “So, when are you going to your parents?”

Whilst he listened to the other speak, Elliot spent a solid five seconds inhaling from the cigarette, before holding the smoke for another couple of seconds. Through a huffed, exhausted exhale, he gave his response. “Don’t remind me…”

After that brief exchange, the silence took over.

Still, though, Elliot and Leo both knew each other _far_ too well to be clueless. Each of them knew exactly what the other was thinking.

“Will you be coming back?” Leo asked.

Elliot shifted, staring down at the cigarette. “Not for a while…” He paused, taking one last drag before stubbing the cigarette out in the ashtray. “I don’t see my parents every year. I don’t _want_ to, either.”

“Why don’t you come and see me, instead?” Leo said. As he stared off into the distance, without adding any snide remarks or subtle winks, Elliot knew he was being serious. “You know, a Christmas tradition.”

At most, Elliot considered it for three seconds, before he spun on his heel, grabbed the other by the shoulder, and placed his lips onto Leo’s. Immediately, Leo melted into the embrace, placing a hand on the side of his neck to pull him closer. And suddenly, the butterflies in his stomach left, and he finally felt significantly less nervous about walking out of here and leaving Leo alone again.

“Savour that,” Elliot said, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “You won’t get it again until next Christmas.”

-x-

_I got what I needed,  
It's you._

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! be sure to leave me your thoughts :3


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